


parallel lines

by The_raven_that_never_calls



Series: Dust & Gold [7]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Cliche Storm, F/M, Gen, I'm Sorry, Little late but better late than never?, Post Season 4 Finale, Sorry if people are OOC, Team as Family, The Librarians Shipathon 2018, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 07:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15334926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_raven_that_never_calls/pseuds/The_raven_that_never_calls
Summary: “I’m pregnant,” she says. “What are we going to do?”- or -The stories of two pairs of expecting parents somehow intersecting across parallel lines.





	1. line I

**Author's Note:**

> As lines, so loves oblique may well  
> Themselves in every angle greet;  
> But ours so truly parallel,  
> Though infinite, can never meet. 
> 
> \- Andrew Marvell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> revelation

The butterflies in Eve’s stomach are rising up to her lungs, squeezing around her chest like bands so she can’t breathe. Eve takes a very deep, hopefully steadying breath before turning to face a very flustered, very worried Flynn.

All she had said was ‘ _We need to talk’_  and took him to a quiet room where they wouldn’t be disturbed—and Flynn, sweet, intellectualizing, the key-to-her-henge, Flynn—had already begun to apologize in circles.

 “If it’s something I did,” Flynn continues to ramble, “I’m sorry. Tell me and I’ll do better, I promise, Eve, I love you and I—"

“I’m pregnant,” she finally says. Her voice sounds like it is an octave higher than usual. The words had been so much easier when she had been rehearsing them thousands of times in the mirror. She rubs her sweating palms together, bracing herself for Flynn’s reaction.

Eve remembers how her Aunt Edna’s husband Uncle Bert had reacted to her Aunt’s pregnancy—lots of whooping with joy and laughter and smiles and chattering of whether the baby would have whose eyes and whose hair and whose nose.

…she also remembers the terse pregnancy of Cousin Whitney, remembers the stark judgement and disapproval.

She expected Flynn to fall into the former category naturally, but instead, he becomes unnaturally still, frozen in place, mouth still forming a sentence she knows he won’t finish. For a moment, Eve is terrified she accidentally broke him.

“P-pregnant?” he manages to gasp after the longest, tersest silence in Eve’s life. “You’re pregnant,” he repeats disbelievingly, beginning to pace and starting to look more and more like the Librarian rather than a terrified expecting father. Flynn’s brow furrows. “Are you sure?” he asks uncertainly, as if he is afraid of hoping that the impossible had suddenly become possible…even though they do the impossible at least three times before Friday. “It’s quite uncommon for immortals to become pregnant and—”

“ ** _Yes_**. I am most certainly pregnant.” Eve is _quite_ certain of that fact. Jenkins had quietly insisted she was pregnant last week when the team went for drinks at their usual haunt—and the old man proceeded to either steal her beer (surprising given that Jenkins seems to be Mr. Teetotaler himself at times) or swapped it out with root beer. Needless to say, Eve had not been amused.

…she had been even _less_ amused when she had taken the test herself and saw two very straight and two very parallel pink lines.

(That had involved Jenkins and tea and lots of cursing and hyperventilating and being terrified of the what-ifs—what if she or Flynn died, what if they broke apart, what if somehow tried to kidnap their child, what if they—God forbid—outlived their child with their immortality and the Library. Finally, after a night of the unflappable Eve Baird panicking and pacing and repeating ‘ _nope_ ’ far more times she thought was humanly possible, in the morning, she realized that she did in fact want to be a mother—the _bes_ t mother for the child that she and Flynn would have and love, hardships and all.)

Eve holds up said test.

Flynn takes it from her almost reverently, gaping at the results before he sets it solemnly aside on a nearby table. Eyes watering, he turns to look at her.

“Oh… my…. goodness!” Flynn’s mouth breaks into a ecstatic grin, lifting Eve up and twirling her around. Somewhere in his giddy monologue, he manages to kiss her. “You’re pregnant! We’re going to be parents! _We’re going to be parents!_ We’ll have to tell everyone the wonderful news! And we have to find names—and make the nursery! Oh, I’m so **_excited!_** ” He sets Eve back down as he begins to coo over her stomach, though she is far from showing. His hands trace her stomach gently. “You’re going to have the most amazing mother, little one. I’ll be the best father to you, I promise, I promise, I promise.”

Eve grins, reaching down to intertwine their fingers. “Flynn.”

“Yes!” His eyes snap up to meet hers.  

“What are we going to do when I’m further along?” she asks, eminently practical as all Guardians are.  

He tilts his head, confused.

“I can’t go out into the field while pregnant,” Eve points out dryly.

“Oh—no, _no, **no,**_ of course **_not_**.” Flynn frowns at the very thought. Mortal danger and pregnant people—immortal or not—as a rule, should generally not mix. Eve watches Flynn’s lips pursue before he smiles fondly. “Cassandra and Stone and Ezekiel have grown so much. They’re three fully-trained, fantastic Librarians. I believe they can survive a few months without your help.”

As good as that idea sounds, Eve thinks, those three are still _her_ Librarians and she’s still nervous about letting them go without Guardian backup.

“ _Flynn_.” Eve raises an eyebrow. “It’s going to be more than a few months.”

In the past, he might have gone on about how _he_ went ten years without a Guardian, but now, he just reaches out to takes his hands in hers, glancing at the mirrors he only recently mastered. He looks like the hero, _her_ Librarian, in that moment—every bit as noble and as wise as Judson. “We’ll be with them every step of the way.”

“Mirrors do not count, Flynn!”

“All right.” Flynn grins. “Then…” He snaps his fingers. “We have a Jenkins. He can fill in for you on the big stuff. That sound good, Guardian?”

Eve can’t help but smile. “Sounds good, Librarian.”

Flynn presses a quick kiss to her cheek. “Then let’s go tell the team the good news.”

—

—

The team reacts as expected.

Cassandra is positively giddy, Jacob is utterly delighted, and Ezekiel is absolutely ecstatic. Even Jenkins seems pleased by the announcement, seemingly conjuring up a cake of congratulations out of thin air.

Flynn, being Flynn (and technically _one_ of the bosses), decides to ultimately give everyone in the Library an impromptu day-off….which they all spend in the Library eating the cake and discussing the baby.

“What are you going to name the kid?” Ezekiel asks her between bites of decadent chocolate cake.  

“I only told Flynn today, you know.” Eve nudges him. “Give us some time.”

The thief smirks. “Ezekiel’s a great name!”

“So is Cassandra!” Cassandra adds brightly. “Lindy is also a great name for a girl. Ooh—and Rebecca! If it’s a boy, John or Christian would be amazing too.”

“Or you could name him after some of the greatest artists in the world,” Jacob suggests. “Leonardo… Donatello… Michelangelo… Raphael…”

“What do you think this is?” Ezekiel scoffs, wagging his fork disapprovingly at the cowboy. “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”

Jacob sticks his tongue out at Ezekiel. “It’s a better suggestion than _Ezekiel.”_

“ _Hey!_ ” Ezekiel gasps in mock offense. “I’m just trying to make sure the kid doesn’t get bullied for having a name like _Jacob_!”

Eve smiles. “We’ll definitely take **_all_** of those names under consideration.”

She glances to the corner where Flynn is trying to convince Jenkins to serve as a temporary, replacement Guardian. Judging by the unamused expression on the old man’s face, Flynn isn’t getting anywhere at all.

Eve is just about to intervene when Flynn snaps his fingers in a moment of inspiration. “You’re our Caretaker, aren’t you?” Flynn says. “It’s your _duty_ to take care of us when Eve’s on maternity leave. That of course includes serving as temporary, replacement Guardian, yes?”

The Library rumbles. Eve swears its laughing.

Jenkins’s eyes glimmer with an emotion Eve cannot quite place. “Then it seems I have no choice but to comply with your request,” he says wryly, though not without letting out a dramatic sigh.

Eve smiles. “Thank you, Jenkins.”

“Always a pleasure, Guardian.” Jenkins adds softly, gently. His voice thickens with emotion as his eyes linger on her stomach, “You’re going to be an amazing mother… Eve.”

For a moment, she sees the ghost of Galahad reflected in his sparkling eyes and sad smile.   

Flynn pouts. “What about me?”

“….you’ll make a great parent as well,” Jenkins adds—if only because of the pleading look that Eve sends him.  It still makes Flynn beam with pleasure.

“What about me, Jenkins?” Ezekiel calls, bounding over to where the Caretaker is standing. “Think I’ll make a good big brother?”

Jenkins rolls his eyes affectionately. “Only in your dreams.” He ruffles Ezekiel’s hair and the two exchange matching smiles.

“Wait…” Cassandra frowns, tapping her chin. “If we’re all going to be big brothers and sisters, who’s the oldest out of the three of us?”

“I’m technically older than both you and Ezekiel,” Jacob points out.

“But maturity wise,” Flynn adds, “Cassandra is head and shoulders above both of you.”

Jacob’s eyes narrow. “You’re not allowed to play favorites!”

As Eve watches the ensuing debate and argument over which Librarian is the oldest sibling, with Flynn adding commentary, she thinks that moments like these have made everything up to this point worth it.

She can already see the little one racing around the corridors of the main room with Excalibur, excitedly pouring over books with Eve and Flynn during bedtime. Her three Librarians babysitting (with Jenkins supervising) as she and Flynn enjoy a night out. Jenkins (albeit reluctantly) allowing their child to roam in his lab. Jacob teaching their child the important lesson—that architecture is just art we live in. Ezekiel showing them how to care for Nessie and how to pick locks (when Eve isn’t looking). Cassandra spoiling them sweet with cucumber sandwiches and science and mathemagics.  

And she knows, no matter what, this child will be so very deeply loved, sight unseen, by every single one of them.

She has never been a mother before, but maybe, she’s already a little ahead of the curve.

Hand brushing her stomach, Eve can’t wait for the newest addition to their family.


	2. line II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> homecoming

His breath catches in his throat when he sees her. Galahad’s legs can’t help but break into a run, his mouth smiling so hard that his lips threaten to burst.

It’s been a month since they last parted, with him being sent to the frontlines of their most recent skirmish with the frost giants and her stationed at Camelot to protect their home. In the forest by Camelot’s imposing castle, the sun ignites her red hair into a halo of fire and gold, and he thinks, _my god—that woman is beautiful_ , and falls in love with her all over again.

He’s been imagining this moment for months, and reality, for once, does not disappoint.

“Morgan!” He lifts her up in his arms, spinning her around, proprietary thrown unceremoniously out the window. Galahad can feel her magic and her very soul buzzing with something…different. Her usual, dazzling brilliance is only marred by the slightest tinge of shadow, of worry, slowly chipping away at the light.

But then she wraps her arms arounds his neck, her touch warm and reassuring, and he knows—with the two of them working together—that everything will be all right.

“Galeas!” (Galahad may be Camelot’s to have and to use, but Galeas is hers and hers alone.) She wraps her arms around his neck. Her breath tickles his hair. Her bangs fall in front of her shining brown eyes, her smile infectious. He can’t help but steal a quick kiss from her. As he pulls away, Morgan repays him in kind, her lips sweeter than wine. “Welcome home,” she murmurs in his ear.

“I promised you I would be back.” The green and gold ring on his left hand feels heavier than usual. Her smile stiffens slightly at that, and Galahad sets her back down on the ground. “Is everything all right?” He reaches out to intertwine their fingers. “You’re trembling.”

Morgan squeezes his hand and gives him a small, nervous smile. “Nothing’s wrong per se…” She takes a deep breath, closing the distance between them. In his ear, she whispers, “I’m pregnant.”

He stares at her, dumbstruck. “Pregnant?” Galahad breathes. “ _Pregnant?”_

His heart pounds in his chest as everything their child may mean begins to cycle through his mind.

(Childbirth has always been dangerous, or at least that’s how he remembers from his time at his Aunt’s nunnery. Even in a place like Camelot, he still cannot shake the notion that every pregnancy, God flips a coin to see who lives and who dies—for both mother and child.)

It’s then that he finally understands that their marriage cannot stay hidden for much longer, that illusions and robes can only do so much until the child is finally here. That his titles and his honor mean nothing for their future together, for he has no lands or titles or inheritance to his name to give their child or support the life that he wants to give his family. That as golden and vital as he and Morgan are now to Camelot, the kingdom would be just as eager to watch them fall and turn against them, like rabid dogs hellbent on slaughter.

But in the end, he decides that he doesn’t care.

He can see it now.

Their tearful smiles of holding their child for the first time. Their laughter as they watch their child try its first stumbling steps. Their child’s first sword lesson with him and their child’s first magic lesson with her. Mending their child’s cuts and bruises for the first time. The two of them giving a child— _their_ child—everything they had both wanted growing up.

He looks at her and he sees everything he has ever wanted in her eyes. It is a wonder how it is possible to love someone so truly and deeply without ever laying eyes on them, for he already knows that the love for their child will last like the horizon, never-ending.

Everything—duty, honor, virtue, Camelot, and the coming wars—is meaningless, whispers on the wind, compared to this moment.

A slow smile spreads across his face, the first of the wild, almost explosive joy that begins to dawn on his face and in his very unsteady soul. “That’s…” he says slowly, a wild spark returning to his eyes, “….that’s wonderful. Morgan, that’s _wonderful._ How long have you known?”

“A week after you left.” She leans into him, and he instinctively draws her closer. “I wanted to tell you in person.” She bites her lip, lost in thought. Finally Morgan says, eminently practical as always, “I perfected that illusion spell recently… That would buy us some time before the baby comes...”

Galahad nods in agreement. With potential wars brewing, advertising one of Camelot’s most versatile and destructive assets as pregnant is hardly advisable. “Oberon owes me a few favors as well…” he adds. “He and Tatiana could require ‘your assistance’ when you’re closer to your due date. Besides, Tatiana and Lady Sillandaria love you and would spoil the both of you rotten.”

“And when the baby’s finally here?” Morgan’s frown deepens. “Then what are we going to _do_ , Galeas?

“We’re going to be happy, and we’re going to be together. All three of us. That’s what we’re going to do.”

“You know it’s not that simple.” She leans into him, gripping his clothing.  “This will _ruin_ you, Galeas, like it ruined….” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t need to.

(Lancelot’s words ring in his ears— _Greatest knight in the world or not, the boy is still just a bastard_.)

He brushes those doubts aside, dismissing the immaculate illusion of Galahad to the shadows. “That doesn’t matter. I’m not _him_. What is honor or duty compared to this?” Galeas reaches out to brush the stray locks of hair from her eyes, tucking the strands behind her ear. “There is nothing I would not do for you,” he murmurs, his hand drifting to her stomach. “ _Both_ of you. I swore the vows, Morgan, and I meant every word.”

“You’re not alone anymore, Morgan.” He smiles, like he did on their wedding day, their rings clanking together as he takes her hands in his. “I will love you for forever, my lady.”

Her lips brush against his knuckles. “Then I will love you for forever and a day, you fool.”

Duty and honor and Camelot and responsibilities melt away as they exchange smiles and a very familiar kiss.

—

—

Late that night, when they are entwined together under the sheets, legs tangled together, both deliriously happy and sated, Morgan breaks the companionable silence that has fallen between them.

“I still can’t believe we’re going to be _parents_.” Her unbidden glee is barely contained in her shining eyes. Morgan’s face breaks into a deliriously happy grin. She looks as beautiful as she did the day of their wedding as he watches her fantasize about everything she must been afraid to alone. “I can already see you teaching our child sword play,” she murmurs, splaying her hand across his chest. “I, of course, would be charge of their magic tutelage.”

“Naturally.” He teases, “And if our child’s not good at either of those things?”

She kisses his cheek. “Then we’ll love our child all the same.”

He already knows they will.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother, Morgan,” he says for the second time in his life. (And like the first time, he means every word.) 

“And you’re going to be the best father in the world,” she replies warmly. Morgan begins to trace meaningless patterns onto his skin, holding him close. He buries his face in her hair, reveling in her—her touch, her scent, her warmth.

He promises that like Camelot, they will all be together and will all be happy.

 _(“Childbirth,”_ his aunt whispers, _“is dangerous.” He had seen it first hand and taken that lesson to heart.)_

But with the two of them, he knows they will be all right.

—

—

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Famous last words.

**Author's Note:**

> I always thought it would be fun to use parallel lines in a pregnancy fic. Pretty apropos, given today's technology. It also is fun to play with the Library setting vs. Camelot setting, given the parallels that were set up since the beginning of S1. 
> 
> Sorry if people are OOC here. I always thought Flynn would intellectualize the issue first before flat out denying the fact that she was pregnant, citing examples, etc, etc... before the fact hits him in the face and he goes squeee. Eve, on the other hand, has had time to get the nerves out and rehearse it, hence why her thoughts tend to be more practical. I know she makes back up plans in cannon, but in this case, I think she would be at a loss if Flynn did not want the kid because it's Flynn. 
> 
> Poor Jenkins lol. The poor man cannot catch a break between the lab and taking care of his now growing family. But Ezekiel, Cassie, and Jacob as older siblings is a very cute idea. Alas, that will never come to fruition, but that's what fanfiction is for, I suppose. 
> 
> Camelot!Morgan and Camelot!Galahad are always interesting to write, given all of my headcannons for them. A little fluff with dramatic irony thrown in for good measure. It's also fun with all the callbacks to previous works and the show. I've always thought that in his more selfish moments, all Jenkins and Galahad wanted was to be happy. ....rip. Fate and Destiny have a funny way of showing their love--after all, what is the point if they keep you alive but all your friends and family are mostly dead? 
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, feel free to drop a comment/criticism/thoughts in that box below! :D


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